


Safe

by whatagoodboy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 10:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatagoodboy/pseuds/whatagoodboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The One Where We Find Out What Was In The Damn Box", or, what was in the box, and why some simple bits of discarded paper,a Google search, and a janitor's closet made an impact on two boys disgustingly in love.</p><p>("The scene that never was", you guys. Well, this is how it played out in my brain.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

 

Slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with his boyfriend’s coltish stride, narrowly missing several collisions with chattering teenagers blissed out by the last day of school before Christmas break, Blaine has to practically shout over the din in the hallway to get Kurt to slow down.

“Kurt! Hey, stop…wait. I just remembered a really important…” he huffs.

Kurt spins on his heels, wheeling about to face Blaine instantly. Blaine wonders briefly how it is possible that Kurt can just…sort of glide the way he does. He’s got this grace, like a very tall cat…

“Blaine? You have an important…what?” Kurt asks.

Snapped out of his silence by the quizzical tone and quirked eyebrow Kurt’s aimed at him, Blaine clears his throat and a attempts a calm response. “Um, well…weren’t we going to exchange presents today?”

“At school, Blaine? Among the huddled masses? Kurt says.

Kurt’s eyebrows remain quirked, and Blaine knows that the romantic plans he’s got are about to be shot to hell if he doesn’t regroup quickly. It seems as if Plan A is going by the wayside, and he’s got to quickly scramble for Plan B. Plan A was supposed to be a suave, charming, heart-felt, presentation—and Blaine’s not really doing so well on the suave and charming fronts so far.

“Yes, well, I was thinking that giving you one part of your present at school would be really appropriate, actually.”

Taking Kurt by an arm, he gently manouvers him into a spot off to the side—one with far fewer students barging by, and with a sound level not guaranteed to cause permanent hearing loss. Lowering his head a bit, Blaine engages what he knows is a pretty effective, “hey, look how cute I am when I peer up into your eyes like an eager puppy” look at Kurt.

Ah! Kurt’s cracking. Though there is a small hint of his “I’m judging you, weirdo” expression evident, there is also a soft glint in his eyes, and he’s pressing his lips together willing them to not spread into a grin. Blaine loves that he’s become such an expert reader of his boyfriend’s body language. 

It hadn’t been the easiest code to crack. Often, Kurt’s words would  _sound_  light, or playful, but his body would betray small cues telling a very different story. Shoulders kept so bravely back usually—dropped slightly. Carefully crafted crossed legs pressed together with enough force to make his thighs twitch and spasm. 

Blaine notices the smallest details, wondering sometimes how others seemingly  _don’t._ As he and Kurt deepened their mental connection to one another, it was almost as if having the bond they did tied them together in an increasingly physical way as well.

Learning truly how strong, yet so incredibly vulnerable Kurt really is—feels like an immense and great gift he’s been entrusted with. Blaine often imagines himself holding Kurt’s beating heart in his hands, cradling it softly—wanting with all of his being to protect it, praying that, whatever heartache would come next wouldn’t be because of something he had any part in.

Motioning for Kurt to come a bit closer, so they can stand side by side—Blaine sees Kurt make a quick glance above his head, bright sea green eyes making their customary “Am I safe? Are WE safe” sweep of the area. Blaine knows he does the same thing when they’re around campus. Every time he notices either one of them checking, a pang of bitter heat clutches at his chest. It sucks that they even have to check. They SHOULD just be safe, but the world doesn’t really work that way.

Pushing away feelings of vague resentment, Blaine decides he’s just…tired. Tired of always having to be wary-distrustful of the public and their stupid tendencies to hurl insults and fists toward, not only gay people, but anyone they don’t quite understand.

Nudging his shoulder gently into Kurt’s, Blaine reaches carefully into his messenger bag, rustling papers and notebooks out of the way before his finger’s catch on a small, foil-wrapped package. As he draws it out out, he watches Kurt’s face.

His expression is a bit unreadable, his eyes widening— _so beautiful_ , Blaine thinks. He can feel electric excitement radiating from the boy next to him, and Blaine wants to capture that sensation forever—press it in a book, like a precious flower.

Motioning for Kurt to hold out a hand, Blaine gently presses the box into the offered palm. 

“Blaine…I….” Kurt stammers. “I don’t have your present here, it’s all…well,  _we’re in stupid school,_ and…”

Grinning, and feeling like if the shiny box isn’t opened within the next thirty seconds, he may, in fact, explode, Blaine bounces up on the balls of his feet and says, “Kurt, shhhhh. Just open it. Open. The. Box. Then, I will explain the story behind the gift.”

“Oh, so there’s a story, huh?” Kurt says, attempting for sarcasm, but a nervous quaver in his voice betrays his delight.

“Yes. Wise Ass. Open it.”

Kurt, damn him, takes in the sight of the small object in his hands, turning it over once or twice, before delicately picking at the tape sealing the wrapping paper. Blaine is a polite person, holds doors, says, “please”,”thank you”, “yes, sir”, and “no, ma’am”—but this wait feels like pure torture. Tossing politesse out the window, Blaine is shocked to hear himself say,

“Kurt, I swear to God, if you don’t unwrap that faster….” 

With a hearty laugh that sounds like the most gorgeous song Blaine’s ever heard, Kurt tears into the paper with gusto, foil bits fluttering to the ground. As he cracks the lid on the jewelry box now revealed, he gasps softly.

Carefully he pulls out the object inside. It’s a multi-coloured, very shiny, and strangely pointed ring. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, Blaine can practically hear the gears spinning in his boyfriend’s head.

“Blaine…it’s…lovely? What…” Kurt wonders.

“Okay”, Blaine begins, “This is the story part. You know how we’ve been…” Lowering his voice slightly, he continues, “You know how we’ve been coming up with creative and secret places to kiss during school hours?”

This earns Blaine a full-on, patented, Kurt Hummel eye-roll. “Yes, I am slightly aware that you and I have been kissing during school hours, Mr. Anderson.” he responds, dryly.

“Yeah, well…it is one of my very favourite things in the world to do, the kissing of you, and there’s that gum ritual that we’ve sort of taken up?”  Blaine natters, every shred of hope for suave shattered.

Kurt snorts quietly. “Yes, I am a fan of the minty goodness.”

They’d found some very interesting spots to kiss recently. Janitor’s closets, backstage during West Side Story rehearsals—hiding quickly between folds of curtain, in that weird little space with just enough room for two bodies to fit behind Coach Sylvester’s ridiculous trophy case. Mainly, the kisses had been far more quick and chaste than either of them had wanted. But the thrill and newness of doing what they were doing, and  _where_ they had been doing it, often made them breathless with want and desire for one another. 

Kurt had shyly offered Blaine a stick of gum before the first time they’d dared to press their lips together on school grounds. Kurt had been fuming silently for a few moments before they had. After a fairly long, uncomfortable period of watching Kurt’s stony glare—Blaine finally asked him what was wrong. 

“Finn and Rachel! That’s what’s wrong! They are practically engaging in Make Out Fest 2011 in the hallway right now, and nobody even blinks an eye. I saw TOUNGE Blaine. Firstly? Ew, because he’s my brother and I don’t need to see his giant head contorted in horny bliss AND his tongue at the same time. Secondly? What would happen if I just grabbed YOUR head, and started sucking on your bottom lip in the hallway? How long would it be before some stupid jock asshole smashed both of our heads into a locker?” he fumed.

Blaine was speechless for a moment. “You…would you grab my head, and suck on my bottom lip? RIght in the hallway?”

“Are you kidding me with this right now, Blaine?” Kurt said. “Of COURSE I’d do it—if I knew we’d be safe. It’s all I can do to NOT some days.”

Cheeks flaming, heart racing, Blaine chose that moment to drag Kurt by his hand—and led them quickly to a small room around the corner from the choir room. “Shhhh”, he whispered, and quickly looked around to make sure the coast was clear before opening the metal door. Ushering Kurt in ahead of him, he took a deep breath, and closed the door behind them.

“Kurt, I need you to come here.” he pleaded, a million emotions racing around his head, heat rising in his face.

Kurt looked at him, really looked at him. Kurt was blushing, licking his lips—and Blaine was shocked to feel a thrilling surge of want course through him at the sight. 

“Gum?” Kurt said.

“G…gum? he sputtered.

Smiling coyly, Kurt reached into his zippered front pocket, and pulled out a slightly curved, tight-pants squashed piece of gum. “Yep. We’re both going to want to have good breath for the next little while if things go where I think they’re going, right?”

Blaine grinned so hard, he felt as if his face would split in two. Ripping the stick in two, he popped one half into his mouth, and was rewarded with a tantalizing hot-wet suck on his finger as he slid the other half into Kurt’s open lips.

Later on, after the first round of clandestine making out? They’d both agreed that the detention they’d both earned for tardiness was absolutely worth it.

Thus, the gum ritual had been born.

“Well, Kurt” Blaine, pressing on, explains, “I’ve saved every wrapper to every piece of gum we’ve shared. I went online, and found instructions for how to make an origami ring out of them. I LOVE you. I love kissing you. I love sharing with you, and I am thinking that, perhaps, an engagement ring would be a little too soon—with us being teenagers and all, but I wanted you to know that I treasure every moment with you. The good ones, the ones where we’re fighting, the ones where we are just  _being_  with each other…”

Slipping the ring onto Kurt’s ring finger, he adds, “…the ones where I get to press my lips to yours, open myself up—open YOU up. Sharing mental, physical…”

Leaning over to brush his lips to Kurt’s ear, Blaine finishes by saying, “Making love with you. Falling into each other. I want you to know how much I adore you. So? Gum wrapper ring.”

Blaine can feel a lump forming in his throat, tears threatening to force their way from his eyes, as Kurt, eyes brimming with tears of his own—gazes at his hand, silent. Breaking the spell, Kurt moves his hand into Blaine’s and tugs at him, pulling him back into the middle of the hallway. With a steady glance, and a squeeze of their clasped hands, Kurt looks directly into Blaine’s face. There is no glancing around now. Just the locked eyes of two boys in love. Kurt drapes his arms around Blaine’s neck—they move in unison as their lips meet.

The kiss is quick, lips pressing together for an achingly brief time. But, those few seconds posses so much passion, love, and trust, and it speaks volumes.

Blaine forgets the fear, the hatred, the bigotry. Kurt lets down his guard, stops listening for approaching clunky footsteps and sneering laughter. For a brilliant, stomach-dropping moment? They are absolutely safe.

 

  


 


End file.
